The Hand of Fate
by Scarf Warriors
Summary: You know when you get bored, and you write things without thinking? Well this is it. It makes little sense. All Doctors appear. T for the odd swear word.


Now then people, allow me to tell you a tale, of god knows what. I am doing some free writing, and we shall see how this turns out. I am listening to music, so various writing styles may appear and the events are likely to be influenced by the singings of Hetfield or Gabriel or Collins or Mustaine or Lindemann or Gilmour or Barrett or Waters or the Jolly Gnu or Calla or indeed Myself. This could be good, this could be bad, and as for what happens, who bloody knows? I don't, and despite my earlier statement there is no god to know. I have set myself some rules, whatever I write must not be deleted unless it is a grammatical of spelling error, and due my music being in many languages I may end up unconciously switching. I apologise profusely. Also, lines from songs are likely to appear, and there are points for people who can determine the song I am listening to. Points will be awarded according to how obvious the song is. As for what these points are for, they probably mean some kind of prizes. If you spot any grammar/punctuation/spelling mistakes, review and I shall scream, hit myself on the head and correct it. I am getting bored of this now, perhaps I should go and ride the lighting.

* * *

**The Hand of Fate**

The Fourth Doctor was in a rather interesting predicament. Sitting in an airport terminal in London is not the way an average time lord likes to spend time. Mainly as he's in London, which is horrific at the best of times. He let out a long and exasperated sigh.  
"Romana, why is it necessary to fly in one of these contraptions?!" Romana grinned happily and tightened the pink scarf about her neck.  
"Because I'm interested to see how humans spend their lives, of course!"

"Humans don't spend all of their time flying, you know. Then again, anything must be better than London. Where are we flying to?"  
"Cardiff."  
"Oh for for f-"  
"The plane is now ready for boarding, sorry for the delay." Romana jumped up, pulling an exasperated Doctor with her. They dashed right past the hostess and her somewhat different welcome.  
"Welcome. Welcome to the machine."

* * *

Jetzt ich muss Deutsch sprechen. Oder schreiben. Ich habe kein Deutsch fur viele Monate gesprochen, weil ich Russish besser mag. Es war ein kalt Morgen in West Schottland, und Der 7. Doktor war ziemlich nass. Warum? Ich weiss nicht. Ich weiss kein Deutsch auch. Ace, wer ist besser als Mel, setzte im Boot. Jedoch, Der Doktor setzte in das Wasser. Till Lindemann stopped singing all of a sudden.

"Ace! We must get more Fuel!" the Seventh shouted, as he sank into the depths of Loch Awe. Ace sighed and grabbed him by the waistcoat, lifting him clear of the water.  
"Rrrright Ace, to the TARDIS. We need more fuel!" the Doctor yelled quietly. Ace and he ambled into the TARDIS where he set the controls for a nice planet where lots of fuel is available. I know not what it was, as Ace decided that she should leave her bag on the console. Her Nitro-9 decided to explode. The console decided to go to 100,000 BC, Earth.  
"What?" said the Doctor.  
"What?" said Ace.

"What?" said Za. The 7th looked Za up and down, before stating his intentions.  
"Give me fuel!" he yelled.  
"Give me fire!" Za shouted.  
"Give me that which I desire!" caterwauled Ace. Za and 7 looked at her oddly.  
"What do you desirrrre?" 7 trilled.  
"Err, a sheep." Ace seemed annoyed that Za had answered for her, but it was too late, far too late. The 7th was already catapulting them through the vortex to Cardiff.

* * *

"No, you daft old fool, I said whales!"  
"HARRUMPH!"

* * *

Meanwhile, the Thirteenth was sitting, quietly supping tea whilst listening to the Judoon leader rabbiting on, and wondering why the TARDIS translation system had not kicked in. The Thirteenth may not be the jolliest of chaps, but he does notice these things, unlike the tenth, who doesn't.  
"No so toe yoe glo, ho ho ho, ko zho plo do."  
"Yes, well, this may be so, but humans can't speak Judoonese, so when you think Father Christmas is shouting 'Die die die!' I think it's rather harmless." Thirteen sniffed, and turned to Jenny. She was not listening to a word they were saying, preferring to listen to music through her earphones, quitely headbanging away. Thirteen tried in vain to attract her attention. Despite his tickling stick and him eating his hair it wasn't until Jenny started moshing that he succeeded. Jenny tripped and fell, smashing her nose onto the floor. The iPod (other music playing Apple products are available) skipped across the floor, still playing her music. Thirteen picked it up with a flourish and looked at the artist.  
"The Regimental Band, Pipes and Drums of the Royal Scots Dragoon Guards?!" Jenny war nicht glucklich, weil ihre Nase verletzen war. Der Doktor war noch nicht in der Lage zu sprechen, und die Judoon war Plotten dem Tod von Santa Claus. Also, Till Lindemann stopped singing and flew to a coalmine in space. ENOUGH OF THIS NONSENSE!! Still rubbing her nose, Jenny plucked her iPod from the hands of the speechless Doctor and stuffed in into her pocket.  
"What'sh wrong with the Regimental Band, Pipesh and Drumsh of the Royal Shcotsh Dragoon Guardsh?" she demanded, whilst trying to sound as menacing as possible.  
"Oh, so to no ro yo uo sho clo vro! Ao!" the Judoon shouted as he suddenly jumped to his feet. Jenny turned to continue the argument, before realising her limited knowledge of the Judoon language means 'die die die' and this is not sensible when the Judoon is likely to blow her to pieces.  
"Oh for pity's sake, she said Dragoon, not Judoon. And why are you still speaking that ridiculous language? I'm the only one intelligent and well travelled enough to know what it means! Oof-" The Thirteenth's indignation was halted by Jenny kicking him in the shin.  
"Ha, not sho good looking now, are you?" she said, before turning on her heel and marching off towards her TARDIS. The Doctor and the Judoon looked quizically at one another, before the Doctor hurried into the TARDIS, knowing that Jenny was likely to have them end up somewhere daft, like Skaro or Cardiff.

* * *

Twas a nice and sunny day in Gloucestershire. This is necessary for my plot to continue. In fact, I don't have a bloody clue what my plot is, but sunny and Gloucestershire should give clever people an idea of who the next character is. The Doctor sat in the pavillion, waiting for his chance to enter the field of play. Tegan looked extremely exasperated. She may be Australian, but she doesn't particularly enjoy cricket or rugby, but I don't doubt she is partial to a barbecue or two. Nyssa seemed very distant, and as for Adric, he was nowhere to be seen. Maybe because there is a power cut and the lights have gone off. Harrumph, this also means and end to my musical inspiration. I shall tap my foot impatiently until it returns.

Several hours later...

Aha, well, err, I have no knowledge of what occurred in those several hours past, but I shall pick up the story in a sanatarium, where Adric is, the Doctor isn't, nor is Tegan, and as for Nyssa, I can only assume she is with them. Adric has been labled mentally deranged and they keep him locked up in this cage and that's why his brain says rage. Somehow I think this music may be worming its way into my writing. Anyhow, here comes 5, for it is he, Tegan and Nyssa!  
"Hells teeth, Adric, what have you done now?" Tegan demanded and poked him in the chest.  
"It's not my fault if these primitives don't know about dimensional stabilisation." This was a bad move. Tegan promptly poked him again, this time in the eye, before Nyssa moved her out of the way. The Doctor produced his sonic tool and got to work on the lock.  
"No worries, we'll be out of this hell hole in nur drei Sekunden."  
"Und wo werden wir gehen, ein andere Dump?" sagte Tegan.  
"Nein nein, wir werden nach Cardiff fahren!"

* * *

It was of little surprise to something random, like... a camel, that the Eleventh Doctor was sitting in a forest, as he seems to spend most of his life in a forest, along with his trusty, yet insane, companion Roberta. The Doctor lay down in the loam.  
"I'm feeling so confused today. They've gone and changed the rules again." Roberta looked up from her microwave oven manual.  
"What? What rules?"

"The sport you humans seem to enjoy so much, football. It's all pretty inane really." The Doctor sat up and pondered the thought of living forever.  
"I heard it on the radio, but so much of what they said wasn't so." Roberta got bored with the conversation and went back to learning about microwave ovens (other electrical cooking appliances are available).

"Why are you reading that thing anyway? We don't have a microwave oven in the TARDIS!" the Doctor said quietly with his tam o'shanter over his eyes.  
"Microwave?! I though it was the TARDIS instruction manual! Why was there a microwave manual in the library if you don't have a microwave?" Roberta inquired, throwing the useless manual carelessly over her shoulder. Unglucklicherweise, der Meister hat dort gestanden. Er schrie, und der Doktor schrie auch.  
"Lauft, lauft um euer Leben!"

"Diese Tage eure letzten sind!" sagte Der Meister, und er schuss sie... All of a sudden, Till Lindemann became Jesus. Eleven and Roberta fell to the floor, and the shots flew over their heads and smacked into a stately elm, which became miniaturised.

"QUICK QUICK QUICK! Into the TARDIS shaped police box!" Eleven screamed, with the call of the Master tick tick ticking in his head as they ran.  
"Stop repeating yourself, it's not helping matters!"  
"We must throw him into the rift!" Eleven proclaimed once inside the safety of the TARDIS.  
"Where is the rift?" Roberta asked, massaging her damaged wrist.  
"Cardiff, unfortunately."

* * *

The Tenth and DONNAH, were, as usual in London. What on Earth attracts aliens to London is completely beyond me, why do they not go to far more interesting and pretty places like the Scottish Highlands or Cornwall or the Cotswolds? Anyhow, one of them slipped, and down the hole they fell. It seemed to take no time at all, but in fact DONNAH was falling for about 3 seconds.

"WHY ARE YOU JUST STANDIN' THERE? WHY ARE YOU NOT HELPING ME OUT OF THIS HOLE?" DONNAH yelled up at the Doctor, who winced, before pulling her out. In a momentary lapse of reason a Zygon appeared and laughed at them.  
"Oho, you are a silly couple of turnips." Before he vanished into thin air, DONNAH yelled at him.  
"WE ARE NOT A COUPLE!" The Zygon vanished and the Doctor helped DONNAH out of the hole. Reality was stored, and all of a sudden the Doctor randomly decided to meet his companions again, and so took himself and DONNAH to Cardiff, where it was bloody cold as a terminal frost had sprung up, freezing the Torchwood team inside the hub, and they had to make do with shagging each other, which is what they do anyway.

* * *

Somewhere on the summit of Beinn Nibheis Jamie was the highest man in Britain, but the Second was feeling a bit low. His eyes scoured the surrounding landscape for reality, but he couldnae find it.  
"Maybe you'll understand, no man is doomed," he yelled up to Jamie, who, despite the storm was wearing his normal kilt.  
"Eh?" he yelled back at the low Doctor.  
"Please forgive me," the Doctor muttered. He was feeling a bit odd, reflecting the feelings of the writer of this pile of crap. The Doctor then began to play his recorder and began to play some soothing tones to try and calm himself down.  
Meanwhile, at the foot of the mountain in Gleann Nibheis, Victoria was cooking breakfast, and making a bit of a hash of it. Excuse me, Status Quo have started assaulting my ear drums, and this cannot be tolerated. Victoria noted that the hash browns were finished, but Two and Jamie had not returned from the mountain.  
"Oh dear," she said, before sitting on a hillock and chewing reflectively on a hash brown as the hurricane continued.  
On top of the rock, the Second halted his recorder playing and polished it upon his sleeve.

"Hmm, did you enjoy that Jamie?"  
"Enjoy what, Doctor?"  
"What? You mean you didn't hear any of my sweet music?"  
"Nay Doctor, if you want to be heard in Scotland you need summat a wee bit louder than a recorder." Jamie produced his bagpipes and began to play a rousing rendition of the Skye Boat Song.  
"I hunger, oh I hunger!" the Doctor complained. "When I say 'run', we run, okay Jamie?" He threw all his bullets in the fire and they ran like hell, right down the mountain, with Jamie's drones knocking against each other.  
"Satisfaction this way comes," muttered Victoria as she polished off the last soggy hash brown. Panting and dripping, the Doctor and Jamie jogged into the temporary camp they had set up.  
"Hey, I thought you were cooking breakfast!" Jamie complained.  
"I did, 5 hours ago. If you want to stand on top of a mountain playing music, then so be it."  
"Oh, I could have done with some lovely hash browns," Two groaned.  
"Actually, they were horrible." Jamie was silent, as his blood had frozen, curdled with fright. His knees trembled and gave way. A skarasen reared its head from Loch Linnhe and roared. Jamie gave a silent reply, and fainted. The Doctor sighed, and dragged Jamie's unconcious body into the TARDIS. He began to set the controls for Eggborough, but the Skarasen knocked the Tardis over, causing Two and Victoria to fall against the directional controls.  
"Oh no! Oh no no no! Oh my giddy aunt, oh crumbs!" the Doctor yelled. "We're going to Cardiff!"

* * *

In the holy land, the Eighth Doctor was wandering around, alone. The reason for this is this I have never read any books with him in other than 'Wolfsbane', where he is alone. So I cannot write about Frizz and Ccard and Compassion and whoever these people are. As he wandered, he noticed it was one o'clock and time for lunch, dum de dum de dee. The sun beat down as he lay on the bench, and he went back to the TARDIS to tidy his room, and decided that he knew what he liked and that he liked what he knew. Then he wondered why he was in the wardrobe, wasting time. He remembered a voice from the past, and realised that he was just a lawnmower. A bell began to toll for him.  
"The cloister bell! No... This cannot be!" He killed men for his hill, and woke up from his awful dream.  
"What a load of nonsense," he muttered, before dusting himself down. "Why was I asleep anyway?" He sat and pondered this for a moment, and heard the silence so loud.  
"Ah well, time marches on." He paused for a moment, his hand hovering over the controls. He considered, and decided that his dream had meant something.  
"I had a silly dream, so now I shall do something silly. I shall go to Cardiff. Oh well, nothing else matters."

Jag vet mycket lite svenska, sЕ jag skall inte skriva for de kommande fem minuter. Mork Gryning ar en lysande band.

* * *

The Third Doctor vainly looked into the mirror, but the sight made him go insane. He turned away and looked at his companion, Sarah Jane, but the memory remained. Sergeant Benton held a cigarette up to his lips, blew the ash into the dust, and sighed. The Doctor seemed very impatient to get going, and when the Brigadier did finally arrive Benton imagined a rather large confrontation would occur. The door crashed open, and everyone in the room jumped.  
"Ah Doctor, you're here at last," the Brigadier said as he swept into the room, a frown on his face.  
"I could be saying the same thing to you, Brigadier!" the Doctor growled uncharacteristically.

"Quite, anyway, there's been reports of lights changing to shadow in Cardiff, Doctor. Or to put it simply, the power is being leached by creatures with hearts of stone and wings of night, whatever that drivel means. Yates will give you more details when you and Miss Smith get there. Bessie has been prepared for you." The Brigadier picked up a document from the desk Sarah Jane was sitting on and swept back out of the room.  
"What do you make of that then, Doctor?" Sarah asked the Doctor with a grin.  
"I think our straight thinking Brigadier has gone a bit cuckoo. Perhaps he needs a bit of thought control," the Doctor replied, looking faintly amused. Benton sat up straight, looking shocked.  
"The Brigadier don't need no education!" he said. Sarah giggled, but the Doctor silenced her with a glare.  
"We're just the toys in the hands of another," the Doctor reminded her. He sighed, but picked up his equipment anyway and headed towards the door. "We'll see you when we get back, Benton. Keep an eye on her, please," he said, indicating the TARDIS with his head. Benton nodded his agreement and got back to his paperwork.

* * *

"The city's ablaze, the town's on fire!" someone cried. The Doctor ran towards the voice, leaving Rose to continue eating her chips.  
"Fantastic!" Nine cried when he saw Cardiff ablaze. The Earth started to shake, and he and the crier stood and started.  
"People are saying the woman is damned" the crier cried. "They say she makes you burn with a wave of her hand!" The Ninth Doctor considered this, but not for long.  
"You, what's your name?"  
"Barry." (teehehe. You probably won't understand if your not British.)  
"Barry, get Rose more chips, then come with me, I think I know how to stop this." The Doctor gave a lopsided grin, before dashing into the burning city. Barry followed him after a few minutes, and they rushed to the Senedd. There they saw the woman arising from the flames.  
"It's unearthly!" cried Barry.  
"That it is, mate." The Doctor produced a bucket and filled it with water from the lake.  
"They've tried water already!" Barry cried.  
"Ah, but this is special water!"  
"Why?"  
"Because I've got it!" The Doctor grinned again, and threw the bucket accurately at the burning woman's face. She screamed, fell to the floor and began to disintegrate. The Doctor turned away and marched back to Rose.  
"Been having fun?" he asked.  
"Irf bffn eftinf chfipf," Rose muttered, spraying chips everywhere. The writer has now hit a snag. The other sections have ended with the Doctor his companions bein transported to Cardiff, but Nine is already there. Hmmm... Err... Ah, okay. Then the Doctor went to the bank and got some money.

* * *

Jason was kicking around on a piece of ground in his home town, when the Twelth Doctor sauntered up.  
"Come on Jason, we've got to go," the Twelth said gently, and Jason sighed, before turning and trudging after the Doctor towards the TARDIS.  
"The sun is the same in a relative way when you're older," Jason noted wisely, as the doors closed behind him. They sat wearily on the armchairs the Doctor had installed in control room and sat silently staring at the console.  
After a few minutes the Doctor jumped up.  
"What do you get if you halve a pair of trousers? It's all coming back to me now!" the Doctor yelled, attempted to lighten the mood.  
"Yet you make no remark," Jason said moodily. The Doctor sniffed loudly and drew himself up to his full height.  
"Right, that's it! I cannot take any more of this! We are going somewhere different and exciting! Jason, grab hold of that knob and give it a twist!" Jason did as he was bid, but with a slight twist. Oh dear.  
"OH NOSE!! NOT THAT KNOB YOU BALLY FOOL!!"  
"What? What's wrong?" Jason said, looking alarmed.  
"Last time I went here I barely survived. My skin is cold to human touch!"  
"What, where are we"?  
"Cardiff."

* * *

"Oh not again, Doctor!" Peri cried as the Sixth swept out of the console room carrying his fishing equipment.  
"Oh yes again, Peri! More gumblejacks, that's what we need!" The Sixth started to choke, it's been so long he spoke. And with these words he cast his rod into the water and waited for a fish to grab his worm. Peri stepped gingerly over the tackle left lying around and almost jumped out of her skin when the Doctor exclaimed loudly.  
"!!" the Doctor exclaimed, and reeled in a gumblejack the size of his head. "Hurrah! Now, gumblejack down, I think I'll try for one of your Earth species now, the Barbel, barbus barbus."  
"Never heard of it," Peri muttered.  
"Hear, hear, the pipes are calling!" the Doctor said as he put his tackle away. "I think I'll try the river Taff, in Wales, land of my heart forever."  
"Wales?!" Peri asked incredulously.  
"Ha ha, charade you are, Peri," the Doctor said as gleefully played with his equipment and set it directly for Cardiff.

Oh dear. I'm sorry. 11th, 12th and 13th Doctors plus their respective companions belong to me and my aquaintainces.


End file.
